


take my blood

by deadmeatdemon



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Comic Book Science, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Parasites, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, inspired by tarantula hawks and other spider-parasites!, peter gets a pet that wants to eat him, whoops!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadmeatdemon/pseuds/deadmeatdemon
Summary: It looks like it crawled right out of a storybook -- all soft green hues with cute little blue and pink spots and big button eyes, no bigger than a baby carrot.Logically, he knows this is weird. That he shouldn’t keep it. But it’s just… so cute. Unbearably so. MJ said she raised a caterpillar to its butterfly stage once, is this really that different?Keep it,his spider-sense urges.Keep it. Keep it. Keep it. Keep me.And hey, if his spider-sense says so...An accident at the Sanctum Sanctorum leaves Peter with a tiny, squishy caterpillar that has a real appetite for his blood. But he doesn't mind, really! It's not setting off his spider-sense, and Karen's honestly overreacting when she says that it's somehow affecting his brain chemistry...So what? All his brain's telling him is that Squishy's the cutest dang pet he's ever had, is that really so bad?
Relationships: Fantastic Four (Team) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 182





	1. new pet

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by tarantula hawks, scorpion wasps, and other spider-parasites! I've had this in my drafts for a while (cough, cough, months) but I just never got around to posting. the idea just couldnt leave my mind, haha. 
> 
> Here's the video that I've taken the most inspiration from!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8zDHuVape4
> 
> The beginning with Spidey trying to get Strange to let him talk to a spider/playing with Bats the ghost hound is also heavily inspired by Doctor Strange (2015) #390 !!

Peter creeps on all fours down the hallway. Every now and then he peeks under the fainting couches that line the walls and serve as makeshift waiting room furniture, all the while being quiet as a mouse so as not to alert his chosen prey. 

A flash of transparent green dances through his periphery, and Spider-Man spins around to face it. His target somehow slipped by him, disappearing behind the door of a spare room. Silently, Spidey slinks onto the wall and perches above the door frame, waiting for his target to check if the coast is clear.

Sure enough, a small green figure peers around the doorframe, completely unaware of the large spider dangling over his head.

“ _Gotcha!_ ” Peter shouts, dropping down onto his target. Bats yelps in surprise as Spidey passes right through him, the hero smacking against the floor with a loud _thump._ “No fair! Stay tangible when I catch you!” Spider-Man petulantly whines as he rubs his bruised knees.

The basset hound’s ghostly tail wags. “No way, Spidey! You promised you’d stay off the walls! Strange said that you leave a residue -- ”

Spidey pounces again before Bats can finish, Peter once again hurtling straight through the ghost dog’s body and tumbling to the ground. Spider-Man tries to stop himself by sticking his feet to the hardwood floor, but he catches the long rug instead, sending him sliding into a potted plant at the end of the hallway with a deafening crash. 

“Spider-Man.”

 _Uh-oh_. Peter untangles himself from the rug and toppled plant, meekly looking up into the calculating eyes of Dr. Strange.

Ever since Mr. Stark moved upstate, Peter's been trying to wean himself off of depending on Stark's tech and influence, especially all the monitor protocols and fancy AIs. The gadgets and such were cool and all, but they didn’t feel like _Spider-Man_ to Peter. Reluctantly, Mr. Stark agreed, but with the caveat that he keep Karen online for emergencies and at least try to establish connections with the other adult heroes in New York City.

And so here he was, building metaphorical bridges at the Sanctum Sanctorum. And judging by the look Strange was giving him, probably well on his way to burning those bridges too.

“H-Hey, Doc,” Spider-Man tries to make his lenses as wide and innocent as possible, “You finished with that spell already?”

Strange waves his fingers. The rug underneath Spidey starts to straighten out to its original place, scooting him back a good three feet down the hall along with it.

“No. Your jumping spider has to acclimate itself to the magical environment first before I can link both your consciouses,” the sorcerer evenly answers. 

Spider-Man slumps a little. “Oh. When do you think it’ll be ready?”

Stephen Strange runs a hand over his trimmed beard. With another dismissive wave of his free hand, the shattered potted plant picks itself up off the floor. “Approximately seven minutes, give or take. I trust that you won’t break anything _else_ of mine before then?”

Spidey gives a stiff nod, dirt sloughing off his mask at the action. Strange squints into his white lenses a bit before finally leaving Peter to sit impatiently in the hallway-slash-waiting area.

Bats pads up beside him, the basset hound plopping down on the floor. “Why do you want to talk to a spider, anyways? Like, I get the theme but…”

Peter exhales and puts his chin in his hands. “It was the only way I could think of to hang out with Dr. Strange. He’s not really a guy that leaves every night to jump across rooftops, y’know,” he sighs, “I just didn’t expect that he would treat me like some kinda...outpatient.”

“Well, you could have asked for a chat over tea and biscuits or something. He likes tea,” Bats woofs thoughtfully, scratching at his ghost ear with a back leg.

“Noted.” Smiling, Peter moves to pat Bats’ head, sulking when his glove passes through the dog. _Man, Doc Strange has a talking dog and you can’t even pet him. What a bust._

Suddenly, the Sanctum shakes violently, the tremor shuddering a few paintings off the walls. Spidey springs up, crouched and ready to bolt if necessary -- Strange tends to deal with things a little more dangerous than a dime-store robber or a dude with mechanical wings. Peter distantly hopes it isn’t demons.

Stephen’s alarmed shout sounds from the other room, and without thinking Spider-Man rushes in.

_Please don’t be demons, please don’t be demons, please don’t be…_

Spider-Man ducks reflexively as massive wings buzz by his head. Large, waspy-like things with horrible, toothy mouths are struggling to get through a small portal in the middle of the room, their jointed legs and bodies clogging the entrance. A few fly erratically around the ceiling, knocking over bookshelves and chittering in the chandelier like overgrown moths. Strange is straining to close the portal with a few large waspy-aliens stuck in the remaining gap, hissing and beating their wings frantically.

“Spider-Man!” Strange calls for his attention. Spidey leaps to his side, kicking the bugs back through the portal and allowing him to seal it off.

“Please don’t tell me these are demons, Doc!”

The remaining wasp-aliens dive for their heads and Spidey makes quick work of webbing them to the walls and floor, his slipper-boots occasionally scuffing on sleek, hard carapaces as he dances between them.

His spider-sense blares in his head as the last one plows into Peter’s side, pinning him against a bookshelf. It chitters angrily in his face, spit flying everywhere from its horrifying jaws. It tries to sting him, burying its stinger into the books to the left of Peter’s head.

“No -- ” Peter reels back and kicks it clear across the room to crash into a nice mahogany bookshelf. “--thank you!”

Probably sensing it was out of its league in these close quarters, the wasp-alien scrambles out of the rubble and --

**_KKRASH!_ **

\-- busts through a skylight. Colorful shards of stained glass rain down into the study.

“Spider-Man!” 

“On it!” Peter swings up and out of the busted skylight, twisting his body midswing so he doesn't get sliced-and-diced like a julienne salad on the window’s jagged edges.

The alien bobs and weaves in between traffic as Spidey follows closely behind, zipping through the night after the fleeing insect.

Using the side of a tour bus as a springboard, Peter launches himself at the flying alien. He lands square on its back, but instead of the hero’s added weight pushing it into the pavement, the insect madly beats its wings faster, rocketing upwards and over the street. 

“ _Whoa nellie!_ ” Spidey squeaks at the sudden change in altitude. The insect flips and twists as it ascends through the air, trying to shake him off. Spidey’s abilities allow him to hold fast, but his head painfully whips back and forth with the abuse.

“ _Oof!_ ” The winged alien slams Peter against a water tower, scraping him against the rusted metal. The blow stuns Spidey long enough for the frightened insect to quickly bend its thorax around and stab its stinger deep into Peter’s thigh.

Peter chokes off a yelp as his whole body goes immediately limp. Limbs now useless as jelly, he slips off of the creature, breath hitching when he realizes that he’s unable to stop himself from plummeting onto the street below.

But instead of letting Peter take his fatal fall, the bug swoops down and scoops him up in its grabby little bug legs, dropping him unceremoniously onto a nearby rooftop. He lands roughly on his side in the middle of a dirty rooftop puddle, the stagnant water soaking through his mask and chilling his cheek. It lands above him, chittering and scuttling around and over his body, seemingly directionless. It had caught him, paralyzed him, and now was just... standing over him. 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut anyways. Even if he cann’t really see the bug-monster from his current crumpled position, he doesn’t want to see the sudden movement that precedes the killing blow. Dr. Strange is too far away, too far away to help save him in time.

A beat. Two beats. The bug hasn’t budged. As far as Peter can tell from his position, it continues to just _loom_ over him, brushing at his mask with its antennae. If he could move his mouth he might’ve told the insect to _just get it over with already_. He inwardly screeches as something brushes up against the back of his neck, the sensation sending a full-body shiver up his spine.

Wait, shiver? 

Peter flexes his fingers experimentally. Whatever the alien insect’s venom was evolved for, it wasn’t made for super-metabolisms. Parker Luck pulls through for once!

He rears back and donkey-kicks the wasp-alien as hard as he can. Thick, black carapace gives under his strength, and he feels the abdomen of the creature cave inwards, coating his boots with disgusting bug-juice. The creature screeches, careening backwards into a brick wall and slumping lifeless to the rooftop like a swatted fly.

He gathers up the alien and brings it back to a harried, tired Strange. The Sanctum is a mess now, and he can’t help but feel that somehow it’s his fault. He awkwardly twiddles his thumbs as Strange chucks the body back through the portal.

He’s about to apologize when Strange floats over to him. “Thanks for the assistance. Are you hurt?”

Spider-Man’s lenses blink. “Oh, uh… no? I don’t think so. It just stood over me for a bit making all these weird bug noises and touched me with its little bug legs and --”

“Good, good,” Doctor Strange dismisses. He waves his hand and the critter-keeper holding his jumping spider floats over to Peter. “Your friend there has a...strange connection to the spiritual world. The Exo-wasps were drawn in through the mystic planes by her essence. It will take me a while to clean up and restart the ritual, so if you would kindly wait outside --”

Peter pretends he understands what the sorcerer's talking about and takes the small cage from the Doctor’s hands. “No, that’s fine! I’m sorry for the trouble. Can I help you clean up instead?”

Strange allows him to help. In the middle of righting the final bookshelf, something sharp pricks at the base of his skull. Peter yelps, hand flying to the spot but the pain disappears just as quickly. Probably a muscle cramp.

“Are you alright, Spider-Man?” Strange asks, floating up to his level. “Exo-wasps are not fully understood, maybe I should give you a thorough check up.”

Spidey waves his hands, “Nahhh, I've bothered you enough already. See you later, Doc!”

Strange crosses his arms as he watches Spidey swing out of the busted skylight.

* * *

  
  


Later that night he has dinner with the Fantastic Four, taking his specially reserved spot at the table as he dives into a greasy burger. After Stark moved upstate, Peter’s been spending more time with the group, and they always save him a seat just in case he decides to visit. It’s nice, especially since May’s been taking on a lot more hours. He just can’t bear to eat alone in the apartment.

Mask pulled up to his nose, he takes big mouthfuls of burger and tries to follow along to the First Family’s discussion. But something itches at the base of his skull, under his suit, fully distracting him from Johnny and Ben’s banter and Sue’s scolding. In between bites he swings his hand around to scratch at it over and over again, but it Won’t. Go. Away. _Argh!_

“Webs?” Johnny asks through his own mouthful of food. “You alright, buddy?”

“Yeah,” he dismisses. “It’s just --” He gestures to the back of his masked head. “Itchy.”

“Itchy?” Ben rumbles. “You’re scratchin’ at yourself like a flea-ridden raccoon. Did you save someone’s fleabag pet lately or somethin’?”

“No, it’s just… Since meeting up with Strange and almost destroying his house with waspy-alien things I’ve been itchy,” the spider-hero explains. “Like, _so_ itchy.”

Reed stretches a hand to rest on Spidey’s shoulder. “Wasp-aliens? Were you stung? Would you like me to take a look?”

 _No,_ his spider-sense whispers. 

Spider-Man jumps out of his seat. “No!”

Johnny balks, “Spidey?”

“I -- I mean… Sorry for shouting. It’s nothing,” he says. He collects his burger. “I think it’s my new shampoo. It’s one of those weird charcoal infused, essential oil marketing scams, probably giving me a rash or something. Thanks for the food.”

When he gets back to the empty apartment, he turns his phone off, ignoring Johnny’s repeated texts. He tries to find the rash or whatever in the bathroom mirror, running fingers through his hair. The itching continues and his skin is rash-free. 

“Augh, what the hell _is_ it…” 

His fingers suddenly brush against something squishy and soft nestled against the nape of his neck. It's… a caterpillar. 

It squirms and wriggles around in his palm. Something odd possesses him, keeping him from chucking it straight into the toilet, and he lets it weave its way around his fingers instead. Somewhere in the background, his spider-sense purrs a quiet, contented hum.

It’s… strangely cute. It looks like it crawled right out of a storybook -- all soft green hues with cute little blue and pink spots and big button eyes, no bigger than a baby carrot. It makes something blossom in Peter, like he’s seeing an exceptionally cute puppy rather than a squirming larva rooting around in his hand.

Logically, he knows this is weird. That he shouldn’t keep it. But it’s just… _so cute._ Unbearably so. MJ said she raised a caterpillar to its butterfly stage once, is this really that different?

 _Keep it,_ his spider-sense urges. _Keep it. Keep it. Keep it. Keep me._

And hey, if that isn’t the biggest greenlight he could ask for...

The caterpillar latches onto his wrist, tiny teeth sinking into his delicate skin. It doesn’t hurt.

Peter keeps it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is super appreciated! Thanks for reading!!


	2. bringing up baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter learns child-rearing is....draining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I'm blown away by the response to this goofy idea of mine -- I hope I can meet your expectations! Here's the next part!

The caterpillar grows rapidly. 

He wakes up woozy and light-headed, and when he sits up in bed his world fizzles in and out for a half a minute. The itching has stopped at least, but there are small marks sprinkled around his neck and chest that weren’t there the night before, but before he can think too hard about it his spider-sense purrs and the worry slips from his mind like sand between his fingers.

Peter names the caterpillar Squishy, and Squishy is _very_ affectionate. It’s always nuzzling into the crook of his neck or collarbone. Somehow overnight Squishy grew to the size of a small pickle, big enough that Peter has to wear a hoodie to hide his new pet’s shape from friends and family. At some points during the day he even finds himself forgetting Squishy’s even there, at least until he feels a dull nip at a new patch of skin.

 _Can’t let them see Squishy_ , his spider-sense urges. _Keep Squishy safe._

When he’s patrolling later that night, Squishy rides snugly between his shoulderblades, its little teeth strong enough to poke through the spandex of his suit and hold on tight. When fighting crime, he makes sure to keep his back facing away from the danger at all times lest someone see or accidentally hurt his delicate pet.

After stopping his third mugging of the night, Spider-Man stops to rest on a building ledge. Squishy wriggles up over his shoulder only a minute later, its big button eyes staring blankly into Peter’s white ones.

“You’re so _cuteeee._ I wonder what you’re gonna metamorphose into,” he babbles at the larva, patting its rubbery head. He’d searched the internet for any caterpillar matching Squishy’s appearance, but came up with a fat goose egg. “I hope something like Mothra. Then I could ride you into battle like a mighty, fluffy steed. Spider-Man swooping in on a butterfly, can you imagine it?”

The caterpillar nuzzles into the side of his neck, and painlessly bites down through the spandex into his jugular vein. 

Peter’s logical self screams at him, jarring him from his possessed stupor like he’s just broken upwards through the surface of a suffocating sea. But Squishy simply purrs in return and the larva’s vibrations somehow calm his senses, pushing him back under. 

_Feed Squishy,_ his spider-sense orders. _Find food._

He hunts down a street vendor that gives him free hot dogs sometimes. The man’s packing up for the night, and gladly gives him the last few dogs he was going to throw out anyways. Spider-Man wolfs most of them down right on top of the food truck, earning him a concerned stare from the owner. Peter doesn’t complain when the guy throws him a few more.

After he finishes, he takes another long patrol around Midtown. For the busiest part of Manhattan, it’s relatively quiet tonight. And thankfully so, because he finds himself having to rest frequently, stopping every few blocks to catch his breath.

On one of these mini-breaks, Karen flickers online. He suppresses a groan.

_“Hello Peter -- “_

“This isn’t an emergency,” he whines. “Why’re you online?”

 _“I would argue that this classifies as an emergency. Or at least a latent one,”_ she calmly carries on. _“Your biometrics over the last few hours have been all over the place. My full-body scans indicate that you have clusters of small wounds around your neck, chest and back. You are also suffering from slight anemia and have an unusual concentration of oxytocin in your bloodstream.”_

“Oh. Yeah, that’s probably Squishy.”

The AI is silent for a moment. _“...And you don’t wish to remove this creature from your person?”_

Squishy wriggles up to his neck again. Peter feels his pet root around his spandex-covered throat, and doesn’t feel anything at all when the larva finds a new latch point free of pesky vertebrae and constantly slip-sliding shoulderblades.

_Keep. Keep. I love you. Keep._

Spidey tilts his head, “Mmm...no, I’m keeping it. He’s okay. Just a little nippy.” 

_“It’s feeding on your blood.”_

He swallows, “Uh...maybe?” Spidey feels Squishy start to purr, and the vibrations travel up his jaw like there’s a kitten resting under his chin. 

_“Peter. Remove the parasite.”_

“No?”

_“Peter.”_

“It’s not a big deal, okay! I’m just taking care of it because...uh…” Spidey pauses. For the life of him, he can’t think of a solid reason he’s keeping it around. It’s...It’s drinking his blood, it’s covering him in bitemarks, he doesn’t even know _what the hell it is!_

He bursts upwards out of that suffocating, dark sea again, and like a man gasping a single lungful of air he’s suddenly consumed in a wave of panic before he’s pushed back under the tide. Squishy’s purring reaches a fever-pitch, minutely constricting its body around the hollow of his throat. 

_“Peter, I’m detecting that your heart rate spiked for twenty seconds before leveling out again. I suspect that the parasite is injecting substances into you in order to affect your brain chemistry. Have you had any odd thought patterns or urges over the last twenty-four hours?”_

_No,_ his spider-sense whispers.

“No.”

_“...I’m going to call Mr. Stark.”_

Spidey rockets to his feet. “No! Karen, we agreed that I’m an independent hero now! In-de-pen-dent! Mr. Stark doesn’t need to fly all the way here to pluck a - a _bug_ off me.”

 _“You’re refusing to pluck it off yourself. We don’t know what this parasite’s doing to you, or what will happen if you let it keep feeding.”_ She brings up a map to the Baxter building only a few blocks from here. _“Would you prefer me contacting Reed Richards, instead?”_

“Nonono, don’t call anyone. Please.” He shrugs, “Whatever this is, it’s no problem for Spider-Man. Here, look.” He gently pries Squishy off his neck, ignoring the squeal his spider-sense makes in response. He holds the caterpillar’s cute button-eyed mug up to his mask so Karen can see. “How can you expect me to say no to that face? He’s just needy like any other baby is.”

_“Peter, I think your judgement has been skewed. I recommend reaching out to a senior hero -- “_

“Nope, no thanks. Independent now, remember?” He stands, tapping at the side of his mask. “See you later, Karen.” The AI fizzles out with a weak protest, and he continues on with his patrol.

The next morning, Peter finds it even harder to pull himself out of bed, his limbs made of both jelly and lead. Squishy had almost doubled in size overnight, big enough to wrap its cute wiggly body around his throat like a living neck pillow and too big to fit under a hoodie without raising suspicion. Good thing today’s Saturday.

Interestingly, the caterpillar snuggling around his neck is changing color. There’s now a hint of red underneath the pale green skin of his pet, and he vaguely recognizes that it’s probably his blood. A lot of it. Squishy purrs almost constantly all day, and he’s able to do little more than eat, nap, watch TV, and text Johnny until the inactivity gets to him. 

It’s sunset when he leaves to patrol, and Squishy hunkers down in its normal spot between his shoulderblades as he makes a beeline for Hell’s Kitchen. The next adult hero on his meet-and-greet list is Daredevil, and if what people say about the guy is true, DD will be hard to find and even harder to talk to, so it's best to kick the search off early.

But apparently those people are _lying_ because not even an hour into his search, Daredevil seeks _him_ out.

Said vigilante is perched on the edge of the building in front of him, and Spidey worries that the infamously territorial hero is about to chase him out of the borough. He tries for a happy introduction before he can be ungracefully kicked across the rooftop.

“Heya, DD! I’m Spidey, nice to finally meet you, I guess?” Spider-Man gives a jaunty wave, and tries to radiate friendliness as he approaches the much taller, edgier vigilante for a handshake. Daredevil only tilts his head and stalks toward the younger hero. 

“You smell like blood,” Daredevil says, trying to walk around to his back, and Spidey spins in place to keep Squishy hidden. Wow, his voice is just as menacing as he imagined.

Spidey chuckles nervously, “Blood? I think that’s probably you, big guy. Or just this place in general. ‘Eau de Hell’s Kitchen’, you know?”

Daredevil doesn’t laugh. “Where are you wounded? What’s on your back?” He reaches out and roughly grabs Spidey’s shoulder.

 _Danger_ , his spider-sense buzzes.

Peter lurches out of his grip. 

Daredevil’s stony expression darkens to a frown. “Stand still,” he orders.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, man,” Spidey whines. “I just came by to say hello. I was hoping we’d like, I don’t know, get a street taco or something together.”

“You’re unsteady on your feet,” the older vigilante stalks closer again, matching Peter’s retreating steps backwards. “You just barely missed crashing into a building two blocks from here, and I could smell pennies as soon as you entered the Kitchen.”

“Wow, you could smell me? That’s a little creepy…” 

Daredevil takes another step closer, too close. “Let me see the thing on your back, Spider-Man.”

 _DANGER_.

Spidey takes an immediate long step backwards, but is caught off-guard by Daredevil sweeping the legs out from under him. Like a cat, he instinctively flips mid-fall to land on his belly instead of his back, preventing Squishy from ending up a fine gooey paste between himself and the rooftop.

Daredevil recoils at the reveal of the caterpillar nestled between his shoulderblades. “What in the name of -- ?”

Spidey flips to his feet and jumps to a higher ledge. “Alright, alright. It's my pet, okay!” 

“Your...pet…” Daredevil parrots. 

“Yeah,” Spidey confirms. “A few days ago it was the size of my pinky. I’ve been taking care of it. Cute, right?” Squishy wriggles up to curl around his throat like a thick, squishy collar. The sensation of it biting into his carotid artery is lost on him, much like the expression of muted horror on Daredevil’s face below.

 _Get away,_ his spider-sense whispers. _Find food. Hungry._

“Anyways, uhhh, it’s been fun, DD. Whenever you’re down to actually, y’know, get to know each other vigilante-to-vigilante instead of creeping on me from blocks away, hit me up.” Spidey lifts a wrist to thwip away, but ducks when Daredevil’s staves come hurtling towards him. One of them painfully jarrs his wrist and the other buzzes too close, _way_ too close to Squishy’s vulnerable body.

Cradling his stinging hand, Peter shouts, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m going to get that thing off you,” Daredevil growls, and his spider-sense starts to buzz a deep, rumbling warning, the urgency of it rivaling the moments just before the Vulture dropped that warehouse on him.

Spidey takes off across the rooftop. “No thank you! Bye!”

Daredevil keeps up really well. Odd, because he’s supposed to have, like, _spider-strength._ It’s getting on his nerves. That, and how the world tilts a little to the side every so often. That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his head explodes in sharp, white pain as a strong hand wraps around Squishy’s body and tries to pull. On pure, feral reflex, Spider-Man rounds on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and kicks out with all he’s got. Daredevil goes flying back, and Peter regains control of his foggy mind enough to web a net for the vigilante so as to keep him from plummeting to the sidewalk. The man groans, long and pained. Oh no, did he kick too hard? 

Consumed in a cloud of guilt, Peter takes a step forward to check on the struggling vigilante, but ---

_Escape. Keep Squishy safe. I love you. Keep me safe._

\-- Spider-Man turns and flees.

  
  
  
  


“That wasn’t ideal, was it, lil’ buddy?” He asks the larva wrapped tightly around his neck as he makes his way back to Midtown. “So much for building bridges with Daredevil… I -- I should go back and at least untangle him from the --”

Squishy’s now-constant purrs increase in frequency and Peter immediately calms. 

“Yeah, no. He’s...He’s probably okay.” 

Spider-Man stops to rest on the side of a building, slightly panting from exertion. He should probably go home, but he can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for an order to be given. Distantly, he’s aware that the caterpillar has turned considerably more red than green in the past hour, and that this very fast shift in hue is probably the reason he’s slowly losing focus on certain things. 

Certain things like the humming engines of the Fantasticar, which he somehow doesn’t notice until it’s hovering only feet from his exhausted form.

“Spidey!” Johnny shouts, his too hot, too dangerous form zipping closer to him while his family hangs back. Peter’s world swirls for a second and he loses his handholds, causing Johnny to support his upper body as he pitches forwards, only clinging to the building by his booted feet. “Spides? What the hell is that around your neck, bro?”

“‘M pet. Don’t touch,” he slurs. Why’s everything spinning? He pushes away from Johnny’s too-warm body. “Who sent you?”

“Karen sent an emergency message out to all your trusted contacts,” Reed says. Peter groans. _Traitor._ “She says you have a parasite.”

He manages to shrug from where he’s clinging to the building. “So what if I do? It’s not setting off my Spidey-sense… No one seems to get that. Getting kinda annoying at this point.”

Ben rumbles, “We just wanna help, kid. You’re tremblin’ like a leaf over there.”

Reed stretches out, boxing him in with both his arms and the Fantasticar. “We just want to run some tests. You’re obviously under the influence of something, so just stay calm and let me…” Reed’s fingers come dangerously close to his pet curled around his throat.

_DANGER!_

Spidey leaps off the building towards Reed and the Fantasticar. He clambors over the side of it, dodging Susan’s grab for him with a feral hiss. 

_“Spidey!”_ Susan reprimands him, scandalized.

The flying bathtub rocks violently as the young vigilante springs off of it. Susan can be heard shouting over the ruckus, ordering the boys around as Spider-Man dives low to escape.

 _Run,_ his spider-sense holds a burning rod to the back of his heels. _Run. Run. Run._

He sticks to skinny alleys and dark passageways, easily avoiding the pursuing, clunky Fantasticar. Johnny’s a little harder to lose, but as Spidey’s hiding behind a fire escape Flamebrain suddenly stops his pursuit. Spidey hears Johnny argue loudly into his communicator, before going quiet and altogether disappearing.

Peter nearly collapses. Thank god. He crawls out to rest his shaking body on the fire escape. 

“You better be worth all this trouble, Squishy,” he pants into the air. “You better be Mothra, or I’ll, I’ll...” He swallows, ignoring how his Adam’s apple rubs up against the larva’s pulsating body. “Or I’ll turn you into a nice set of silk bedsheets. Haha, get it? Because you’re probably gonna build a silk cocoon.”

_Find a place for Squishy to build one._

Overcome with the sudden impulse to find a dark corner to hide in, he admits the idea doesn't sound half-bad. A chance to rest and recoup before... something. It feels like his head's full of cotton, unable to hear anything but the purr of the creature under his chin. Why doesn't he just go home?

Like a man possessed, Spidey starts to swing his way to the docks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, feedback is always appreciated!!


End file.
